Keeping Watch
by Seraphim Starlight
Summary: At some point, the line between first and second watch had blurred. Slight GxN.


**Keeping Watch**

**By: seraphimstarlight**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Tales of the Abyss.

**Author's Note:** This fic is dedicated to my good friend Razing-Phoenix, my fellow G x N fan. Thanks for all your support!

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It had been a tradition for as long as they could remember. She would take the first watch and he, the second. She had always been glad for the shift, as it was easier for her to simply stay awake than it was for her to sleep and reawaken for a later shift. Likewise, he found the second shift to be agreeable, if not more agreeable than the first. And as he too found it easier to simply stay awake rather than sleep and reawaken, he took to sitting with her through her shift.

When she had first joined the party, he had joked that it was to make certain she wouldn't doze off. After all, a princess was hardly accustomed to staying up to keep watch. The comment had earned him a glare and the threat of a hug, and he kept his mouth shut after that, keeping watch in her place when she had, indeed, fallen asleep. The next night, she took first watch again, and though he said nothing, his presence had only served to remind her of her failure the previous night.

That time, however, she was determined not to fall asleep. So, when she felt herself in danger of nodding off, she kept herself awake by arguing with him about whether or not she would be able to stay awake and occasionally prodding him, accusing him of falling asleep while on watch. And to that, he would reply that she still had a while to go before his shift was to start.

As time went on, she grew accustomed to keeping the first watch as well as having him keep her company. Now that he could no longer tease her about falling asleep on watch, they took to talking—sometimes about their journey, sometimes about nothing in particular, and sometimes about her cooking skill—or lack thereof, and she would once again glare and threaten to hug him. But she would smile and so would he. Eventually, they fell into a routine, and every night after the others were asleep, they would sit by the dying embers of the campfire and talk. And at some point, the line between first and second shift had blurred.

But on the night after the group emerged from Inista Marsh after the harrowing escape from Baticul, the routine would change.

When the group finally made camp, darkness had already fallen. They had traveled much longer than they had originally intended, pushed onwards both by fear of a return visit from the Behemoth as well as being found by their pursuers. By the time they stopped, first watch was already half-over.

Concerned, the others had told her that she didn't have to worry about watch. Guy had volunteered to cover the rest of her shift as he was used to staying awake through both shifts anyway. Anise had raised an eyebrow at this, but had said nothing. Luke had volunteered to take the third shift, Tear the fourth, Anise the fifth and Jade the last, and Natalia hesitantly retired for the evening. The others shortly followed suit.

There was no campfire lit that evening for fear of giving away their position. They had moved deep into a nearby forest until they had found a campsite adequately concealed by trees and underbrush. Still, there was no sense in taking the risk of lighting even a small fire.

Guy bit back a yawn and tried in vain to focus on his surroundings, but the oppressive darkness of the night blurred one thing into another—trees into brush, nearness into distance, heaven into earth—so much so that he could barely distinguish the forms of his sleeping companions from the ground on which they slept. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to fight the drowsiness that threatened to overwhelm him. For some reason he was finding it unusually difficult to stay awake. But he supposed it wasn't entirely unexpected that he would be exhausted tonight. The day had been difficult for them all. First the escape from Baticul followed by the near constant battles through the marsh—not to mention the effort put into fending off the Behemoth at every turn—it was no surprise that all the others fell straight asleep and he himself was teetering on the brink of dreamland.

He shook his head, as though that might help dispel the exhaustion that had settled over him. Idly, he scanned the small campsite, eyes lingering momentarily on one form in particular as she let out a muffled cry in her sleep.

Of all of them, the day had been hardest on her—perhaps because, for her, the turn of events had been wholly unexpected. Although Luke had faced the exact same sentence as she had, he had likely been expecting something along these lines to happen since the day he had found out he was a replica. And though that did not lessen the seriousness of what had happened to him nor mitigate the need for everyone to support him, it might have lessened the blow for him—if only a little. But for her…suddenly everything she knew—her home, her family, even her name—had been stripped away in a matter of seconds. The loss—it was a pain he knew far too well.

Thoughts of his home and his family drifted through his mind, but he quickly banished them. There would be time enough to remember them later but not now. He could not let them overwhelm him as he knew they would. He would deal with his personal pain later; there were others who needed him now.

A chill passed over him, like the breath of a ghost, and he drew his arms closer about himself. It was strange; if anything, the night had been warm. But, as suddenly as it had happened, it was gone, leaving him unnerved.

A sudden sound had him jumping to his feet, sword at the ready should anything spring from the shadows. Had pursuers from Baticul found them? He looked around, eyes struggling to make out his surroundings in the almost palpable darkness.

A noise. Something had moved in the darkness. He whirled around, only to drop his sword in surprise when he saw what it was.

She was sitting up, staring off into the darkness but was completely still. She never moved—not so much as a twitch. For a moment, he thought she had simply sat up in her sleep, but then she slowly raised her shaking hands and stared at them for a long moment before burying her face in her hands and starting to cry.

At first, the sound was so quiet that he doubted he had even heard it. He moved closer, squinting to see in the darkness. To his dismay, her shoulders were shaking, and her face was as pale as death.

Quickly he picked up his weapon and sheathed it before starting towards her. She did not seem to notice him until he was kneeling beside her, his hand hovering hesitantly by her shoulder.

"…Natalia?"

She jumped, startled not only by the sudden sound of her name in the silence as well as his proximity. She blinked slowly several times, almost as though she were trying to understand who he was and why he was there.

"Are you all right?" he asked after several long moments of silence.

She stared at her hands again and flexed her fingers experimentally. At first, he thought she wasn't going to answer, but at last she turned to him and gave a slow cautious nod.

"I…I think so," she said after several long moments. She glanced from her hands to his face then looked away. "I…" she paused momentarily. "No…I'm…not really sure. I feel…cold…."

She wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Cold…and warm at the same time," she murmured.

It was hard to tell, but she seemed somewhat paler than usual, and a sheen of sweat covered her skin.

He frowned. "You might have a fever."

It was a guess at best. Really, the best thing would have been for him to check her temperature, but even in this instance, he found it difficult to bring himself to touch her.

"A…fever?" she asked, a note of disbelief in her voice.

"Maybe," he said. "You might have caught something in the marsh."

She looked away. "Maybe," she agreed half-heartedly.

He watched her for a moment. "Something else is bothering you," he said knowingly when she did not speak again.

He frowned. Of course something else was bothering her. It was no surprise after all she'd been through today. In fact, it would have been far more surprising—and, he admitted far more worrying—if she wasn't bothered at all. And, knowing her, she probably wouldn't want to talk about anything that worried her. But still. He felt he had to try.

She did not correct him or respond in any meaningful way. Instead, she only continued staring at her hands. His hand still hovered mere millimeters from her shoulder.

"You…should get some sleep," he admonished gently, gesturing for her to lie back while being careful not to actually touch her. (He didn't think it would help her any if he fainted out of fright right in front of her.)

She dropped her hands into her lap and turned away so that he could not see her face. "I'm not tired."

"Of course not," he said, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes even though she wasn't looking at him. He hesitated. "Or is it that you _can't_ sleep?"

She fidgeted. "I had…a nightmare," she said at last.

"A nightmare?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip.

He sat down on the ground next to her and stretched out comfortably. His legs were beginning to get stiff from kneeling for so long. "What about?" he asked when he was settled.

"About…" she hesitated as though debating whether or not to tell him, "what happened in Baticul."

Her response was not unexpected. Trauma was inevitable from such an event. After the death of his family he had had nightmares constantly for years. Since he had started traveling, he'd had them less frequently—he supposed that getting out of the manor had helped somewhat—but even so the faces of the dead still sometimes haunted him once darkness fell.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked up, a frown briefly crossing her face. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping watch?" she asked.

"I am," he grinned. "I'm keeping watch over the person who needs me most."

Even in the darkness he could see her face flush. "There you go again," she mumbled, looking away, "saying things you don't mean. Just like in the marsh."

It was his turn to frown. "You think I didn't mean what I said?"

She shrugged. "The way I was acting I was a…burden on the group; I was putting all of you in danger. Someone had to say something. You simply picked up on it faster than the others did."

His frown deepened. "Is that what you think?"

"It is the most…reasonable explanation," she said, her expression neutral.

"…Perhaps," he said, struggling to keep his tone calm, "if I were a complete stranger and not your _friend_ who is worried about you!"

"You were…worried?" she asked, the surprise evident in her voice.

He blinked several times. "Of course I was. We all were!" He hesitated a moment before adding, "And we all still are."

She remained silent for a long moment. "I apologize for making you—and everyone else worry about me," she said at last, her voice deceivingly even, "there is no need. I will be…fine."

He squashed the frustration that was building in his chest. "Fine?" he asked in a strangled tone. "It's not a cold you know. You don't just _recover_ from something like this."

"And how would _you_ know?"

He drew back as though he had been slapped. The painful answer jumped to the forefront of his mind in a confused jumble of emotions and angry words, but he bit it back, snapping his jaw shut so hard that it made his teeth rattle in his skull. It was hypocritical of him: he had complained earlier that she didn't want to talk about her problems, but here he was doing the exact same thing only under the pretense that she didn't need to hear this now.

But maybe she did. Maybe it would help her if she knew that there was someone—several people actually—who could understand what she was going through. And though his mind would not permit him to say that her loss could ever be as terrible as his had been, he could rightly say that she was suffering terribly and that he knew what it must be like.

But how—how to open that dialogue when he could not even bring himself to think about the deaths of his family—when he continually pushed the memories from his mind with the false promise that he would deal with them later? How would he speak of such a thing when he had spent practically all of his life unable to face the events of that day? Never, until now, had he actually considered speaking openly and honestly about what had happened. Sure, he had told everyone the general story, but there was a vast and terrifying difference between giving a simple summary of the event and actually recounting the whole story to someone.

And though he had never thought he'd even _think_ about telling _anyone_ the whole story, he had never dreamed he'd consider telling someone he had once considered his enemy.

_Enemy_. Inwardly, he cringed. To tell the truth, it had been a long time since he'd thought of her like that. Years maybe. Certainly there were occasions when he'd been frustrated or even down right angered by her behavior, but it had indeed been a long time since she'd last borne the title of "enemy".

And, as he glanced over at her he wondered just what she was to him now. "Friend" was the obvious choice, but it certainly had its own subcategories: casual friend, good friend, dear friend, and of course the troublesome "friend-that-might-just-might-be-something-more". And though he was certain they weren't quite there yet, he knew that they danced somewhere in the upper end of the spectrum.

It was funny in its own way. He'd never even thought that they'd even get past "casual friend" let alone reach wherever it was they were now. Her imperious attitude coupled with his inability at the time to defend himself against her insults and demands had clearly defined the boundaries of their interaction—had delineated the then ever-widening gap between the two of them. Back then, he would never have had the chance to earn her respect nor she, his friendship.

In a sense, he was almost grateful that she had blackmailed Luke into letting her join the party. After all, it had given them the chance to get to know each other in a place where the traditional boundaries between "princess" and "servant" did not exist—each night beside the dying campfire when they would laugh, joke and talk about whatever came to mind as equals—simply as two people who happened to be traveling together. And he had grown accustomed to spending that time with her.

Though he was still generally uncomfortable around women, the time spent with her allowed him to get used to her being in close proximity to him. It was only thanks to that that he was able to even sit next to her for so long. In most other cases, it would have been difficult if not impossible. Again, he felt grateful for the nights spent by the campfire because it allowed him now to comfort the woman who had become, in many ways, dear to him.

_Dear to him…?_ _Now where had _that_ come from?_

"…Guy?"

He snapped his attention back to her. She was watching him with wide eyes that he could see even in the dim light. For a moment, their eyes met; he held her gaze until she looked away demurely.

"I'm…sorry," she said at last. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You were only trying to help."

"You were upset," he said simply. "These things happen."

She looked at him again and gave a weak laugh. Though the sound was weak compared to her normal laugh, he was glad to hear it. At least she seemed to be feeling better—if only a little.

"I guess I've always been like this," she said. "Taking things out on you when they're not really your fault."

He thought for a moment about saying "It's all right," but it sounded empty somehow. The problem was that it _was_ true. He knew he couldn't get away with telling her otherwise. In this case, it was best to address the issue head-on—at least, it would be for her sake anyway. The last thing she probably wanted was for people to lie to her.

"Maybe," he declared at last, eliciting a pained glance from her, "but I think you've changed since then."

"Do you…really think so?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded. "Well, before, you'd never have admitted that it _wasn't_ my fault." She cringed, but he smiled. "I'd say that's an improvement."

She cringed again and looked away. "Am I…really that bad?"

"'Were'," he corrected. "You've _changed_. Remember? And, at any rate, I hate to say it, but, uh…yeah. It _was_ that bad."

She hesitated for a long moment. "I'm sorry," she said, breaking the silence that stretched between them.

"You don't have to apologize," he said quickly.

"But…" she fell silent for a moment as though uncertain of what to say, "I—everything I—and…I'm not even…" Tears rimmed her eyes. "…I'm not even…!"

He leaned back at little, stretching as he did so. "And what were you going to say?" he asked. "That it was okay to act like that when you were a Princess?"

She jumped, a little startled. "N-no! O-of course not! It's just…"

"Just…what?"

"I…" she looked over at him, her expression half-desperate, "just…what—_who_ am I?

A lone tear trailed down her face, highlighted by the moonlight. The urge to wipe it away—to comfort her in any way possible clashed violently with his fear within him. He raised his hand and held it, trembling, mere millimeters from her skin. She was watching him, eyes wide, shimmering with anxious tears. He drew a nervous breath as another tear slipped over her long lashes.

The look on her face tore at him, and, for a brief moment, compassion overwhelmed his fear. The touch was the briefest there could be—the barest brushing of fabric on skin as he thumbed away the tear—but it was enough to make his entire body stiffen in fearful protest. The arm that supported him gave out momentarily, and he nearly fell flat on his back.

Her arm shot out, and he bit back a scream as she pulled him back into a sitting position. Reflexively, he pulled his arm free from her grasp. For a moment, she stared, stunned.

"S-sorry," he gasped, "it's…nothing personal."

"It's all right," she said quietly. "I know."

He forced a laugh and wiped away the sheen of cold sweat that had settled on his forehead.

To his surprise, she laughed as well. "Now _you're_ the one who looks sick."

He bowed his head apologetically. "Sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," she smiled, "it was quite amusing actually." She paused for a moment, gasping when she realized what she had just said. "I-I'm so sorry! That is—! I didn't mean—!"

He returned the smile. "It's all right. No offense taken." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I'm just glad I could bring back your smile."

She blushed again and pursed her lips into a pout. "Oh, you!" she huffed. "There you go again!"

He scratched nervously at the back of his head. "Sorry."

She looked away. "O-oh. You didn't have to apologize. I was only joking."

"Oh. Sorry."

The pout twitched downwards into a slight frown. "It told you, it's okay."

He held up his hands defensively. "S-sorry."

Her eye twitched. "Guy…" she began, her tone dangerous.

He grimaced. "Sor-"

She held up a hand to silence him. Her finger hovered above his lips, but she was careful not to touch him. Painfully aware of the blush that was spreading across his face, he turned away quickly, stifling another "sorry" as he did so.

"Thank you," she said at last, "for cheering me up."

He turned back to her, grateful that the darkness would, at least, hide his blush. "You don't have to thank me. I was only doing what I felt like doing."

"Still," she said, "thank you…for being so kind."

She smiled, and, to his surprise, he found himself unable to look away. Idly, he reached up and brushed his fingers along the tips of her hair.

"Earlier," he said quietly, "you asked me who you were. I can't say that I actually know the answer to your question. After all, that's something only _you_ can determine. But, I can say this: in my eyes, you are simply _you_, and _you_ are the person I care about. Not a name, not a title. Simply _you_."

Her eyes widened exponentially. "Y-you…care…about me?"

The question caught him off guard. He wanted to say, "Of course!" But the words stuck in his throat. Inwardly, he feared he might have said too much—more than he had even intended—so he continued talking, hoping to distract her.

"And…I meant what I said earlier. If you want to come with me to Malkuth—I'd be more than happy to take you along. So…if you want…just, uh, let me know, you know? But, I don't think you have to worry. I'm sure this whole mess'll be sorted out eventually and then..."

His words trailed off into silence.

"And then," she said, picking up where he'd left off, "I'd still come and visit you anyway."

"And you'd be more than welcome to," he smiled.

She looked off into the darkness. He did not break the long silence that stretched between them.

"The nightmare," she said abruptly, "I dreamt I drank the poison."

"Poison?" he asked, surprised. Neither she nor Luke had made prior mention of this.

She nodded. "When Luke and I were separated from the rest of you, we were given poison and asked to kill ourselves—to have the dignity to die by our own hands. In the dream, I waited and waited, but no one came to help me. Luke had refused the poison, saying that they'd have to kill him themselves, but I—!" Powerful emotions constricted her voice into shrill sob. "I couldn't—! I drank it because I was too scared of facing that pain—too scared to hear them once again pronounce my crimes—too scared that…that none of you would come back for me."

He glanced away, hiding a momentary frown. Did she really not trust any of them?

"You really thought that none of us would help you?" he asked, his tone a bit sharper than he would have liked. "Not even Asch?" _Not even me?_

She shook her head slowly. "It's not that," she said, the unsuppressed emotion in her voice indicating that she was being honest with him. "I knew that someone would try to help me. That's why, in real life, I didn't drink it."

He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"But in the dream," she continued, "I felt completely hopeless. And, in the end, I drank the poison." She shivered as though cold and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. He reached over and picked up the blanket she had thrown off sometime during her sleep and handed it to her. She took it, thanked him, and wrapped it about her shoulders. She pulled it tighter and clutched at the hem for support.

"It was like swallowing fire," she said, making a valiant effort to keep her voice even. "It burned and burned all the way down, and then it was cold, and then…nothing. No feeling, no sight, no sound." She glanced around at the shadowy clearing. "I don't know what happened next, or if anything did. But I must have woken up because I remember trying to open my eyes. I remember they felt like they were open, but I still couldn't see anything. I was terrified. I didn't know what to think. I wasn't even certain I was alive. I—!"

"It's okay," he said cutting her off. "It's only so dark because we didn't light a campfire tonight."

"I know that now," she said, fixing him with what amounted to be a teary glare. "But I didn't know that then. I couldn't see anyone, or hear anything—it was just like in the dream." Her gaze softened as did her voice. "But then you came and called my name. It was…the only thing in that moment that told me I was still alive."

She was slipping again—back into what he imagined must be her own private hell. "I'm glad I could help," he said after a moment's thought. "And…I'm glad you chose to share this with me."

She hugged her knees closer and looked away, hesitating as though uncertain whether or not to speak. After a long, deliberate pause she said, "There was no one else I'd rather share it with."

The words themselves did not shock him so much as the tone in which she had said them. Her voice, though still quiet, seemed to take on a warmth that he had only heard once from her before—when she had thanked him back in the marsh. She had turned away again, looking off into the darkness as though purposely trying to avoid his eyes. Fidgeting, she caused the blanket to fall from her shoulders to the ground between them. At first, it did not seem as though she would reach for it, but after several long moments during which neither made a move for it, she turned and took hold of the hem. But he was faster, holding the blanket fast to the ground. Their eyes met when she looked up at him, surprised.

He wasn't certain of either what he expected to see there or of what he _hoped_ to see there; he only knew that he had to know. Where his sudden burst of confidence had come from he didn't know, nor did he know whether he would be able to hold her gaze if she chose not to turn away. Fear already bubbled in his heart. Fear of what, he did not know. But at the moment their eyes met, all emotions but one fell away, replaced by the dim awareness that they were rapidly closing in on that troublesome zone of the spectrum.

Hell, for all he knew, they might have already overshot it but had not yet caught on. In any case, at some point the carefully constructed lines between them had blurred, and where once protocol and propriety had stood, there only remained the realm of unlimited possibility.

On what ground they now stood, he could not tell, but as they both leaned towards each other, he knew that they were about to test their limits.

A sound from the other end of the small campsite made them jump guiltily apart. He sprung to his feet as did she, and they scanned the surrounding area.

Another sound. He reached for the hilt of his sword, but she stopped him with a gesture and pointing to one of their still sleeping companions. Anise shifted in her sleep and buried deeper into Tokunaga's stomach, muttering something about someone owing her Gald. Guy decided he didn't want to know.

"Let's hope she's not serious," Natalia had laughed, turning to him.

He could not think of a coherent response to her simple statement. For several long minutes all he could do was stare as the realization of what had almost happened fully hit him. The look on his face must have given him away because she frowned momentarily before glancing away towards the ground.

"Things are…no different than before, right?" she ventured after a brief silence.

There was no regret in her words, only caution, as though she too had realized that they had moved very far, very quickly. He for one agreed with her assessment. As glad as he was that she might someday be interested in something more between them, he agreed that now was not the time to push the matter. Too many things were unsettled—for all of them. Now was not the time to pursue a relationship that neither party was entirely certain they wanted.

He couldn't imagine what things would be like for her if they did indeed become involved with each other and things didn't work out between them. She might come to feel uncomfortable among the group, and he, for one, didn't want to be the cause of that. Right now, the group was the only place where she felt safe. Exiled from her home and her family in Baticul, she likely felt there was nowhere else for her to go for the time being, and, until this whole situation was resolved, she would probably feel the same.

But how long before the situation was resolved? Days? Weeks? Months? _Years?_ All were possible. There was not telling how long she would need this safe haven, but, as long as she needed it, she would have it. He would see to that.

"We don't have a campfire tonight," he said faking a grin.

To his relief, she smiled, genuinely. "And you didn't tease me about my cooking tonight," she added.

He mocked sighed. "And I was so certain that a single bite of that 'cake' you tried to bake the other day would have felled that Behemoth effortlessly."

Her smile morphed into a wicked grin. "Keep that up, and I'd have to hug you."

He had to admit that though the thought of physical contact still terrified him, he was comfortable with the idea of it being with her. She was looking at him, awaiting an answer.

"Don't be like that," he said, faking a terrified look.

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd behave yourself."

"I'll be good. Promise."

She turned away, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "'Good', you say?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He only answered with a grin, unable to think of a safe answer to her question.

Eventually, she smiled and turned back to face him, her expression turning momentarily serious.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I'm glad I could talk with you."

"It's what we always do, isn't it?" he asked. _I'll always be here to listen._

Her smiled widened. "I suppose it is," she agreed. "Still…thank you."

He pretended to sigh. "I told you. You don't have to thank me. I'd be happy if you just got some rest now. You've had a long day."

She glanced back at her bedroll and blanket. "I'll try," she said at last, "if you promise to stay with me until I fall asleep." She glanced away sheepishly.

He nodded slowly. "Sure. If it'll help."

_And I'll stay beside you until you wake._

He turned away until she was settled and had pulled the blanket up to her chin. She smiled when he looked back at her, and he settled down beside her.

"Sweet dreams," he told her as her eyes fluttered closed.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

A few minutes later and she was asleep. He still remained beside her, watching her as she slept, the peaceful smile on her face assuring him that she would be having no more nightmares that night.

Content, he stood and grabbed his blanket and bedroll from where he had left them, nudging Luke with his foot as he passed to tell the red-head that it was time for his shift. Luke stirred and gave an acknowledging grunt. Guy nudged him again.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Luke muttered at last.

Satisfied that his friend was awake, Guy set out his bedroll and lay down near the sleeping archer. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized that this might cause some questions in the morning, but frankly, he didn't care. Let them think whatever they wanted. The two of them knew the truth, and that was what mattered.

A few minutes later and he too was asleep, dreaming of many things, her smile among them. And one word in particular echoed in his mind.

_Someday…_

Across the campsite, Anise stirred again, cracked an eye open and smiled to herself. Oh glorious blackmail. And not to forget, but Luke now owed her 5,000 Gald. She stifled a giggle. Oh this had turned out to be a memorable night indeed.

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